


Wings in the Dark

by Aliya_417



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, BAMF Castiel (Supernatural), Coda, Episode: s14e20 Moriah, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Post-Episode: s14e20 Moriah, Winged Castiel (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 04:23:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20419847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aliya_417/pseuds/Aliya_417
Summary: Behind him, Sam and Dean sucked in their breaths as his broken wings began to cast a ragged shadow on the fountain behind them. Castiel bowed his head, his eyes glowing, shifting from a brilliant blue to a blinding white.He snapped his head up as pain began to shoot through his wings. Forcing himself to stay standing, he yelled through gritted teeth, “Shut your eyes!”A high pitched ringing pierced the air. White light flooded the graveyard.Then suddenly everything was silent, the graveyard littered with rotting corpses, fresh blood trickling out of their ears.





	1. Chapter 1

The darkness was overwhelming.

Even as an angel, Castiel could feel the chill in the air, the breeze cutting through the humidity left behind in Chuck’s wake.

The stars stood out in the sky, bright speckles against a dark canvas. The moon was illuminated against the backdrop of clouds, the light reflecting glassy blue in the water fountain.

And the blood that dotted the grass.

Castiel cut into a zombie, pivoting in time to watch Dean hack into another.

The two Winchesters looked spent, exhaustion rolling off their features as they stumbled against the growing crowd.

In front of him, he saw Sam stagger, letting out a yelp as he twisted his arm to gut a zombie, pulling at the wound in his shoulder. The zombie fell, but another one quickly took his place, advancing towards Sam.

Sam groaned, knees sagging. Dropping to the ground, he feebly attempted to ward off the zombie but screamed as it swiped at his shoulder.

Castiel stole a glance at Sam’s shoulder, his gut cramping in a furry of nerves as he noted the growing bloodstain.

Dean stepped forward, punching the zombie in the throat before gutting it, adjusting his stance so that he was standing protectively in front of Sam. Dean’s eyes flickered up to meet Castiel’s before they set, contenting to fight for the two of them.

Castiel turned away, an ache settling in his chest, just in time to watch a zombie step on Jack’s arm. The bone gave with a sickening crunch.

As much as Castiel loved the Winchesters, Dean had forced him to choose between them and Jack, and that wasn’t something Castiel was inclined to pardon so easily.

Stepping in from of Jack, Castiel pushed his angel blade up his sleeve, setting a hand atop the zombie’s forehead. Silvery light reflected in his eyes as he burnt the putrid essence out, causing eerie shadows to grace the graveyard.

The zombie dropped to the ground, eyes smoking. For a moment, the attacks stopped. Castiel took these brief seconds to gyrate towards Sam.

Sam was curled up on the ground, eyes flickering, fighting to stay conscious. Castiel knelt on the grass, pressing two fingers to Sam’s forehead. Healing his wounds, he stood up, before the advances continued.

Two zombies yanked at his arms, their angry snarls contouring their grotesque faces. Snatching his right arm out of its grasp, he faced the zombie with a steely gaze. Flicking his wrist, it flew backward, the shockwave from the minute celestial pulse sending the one of his left tumbling to the ground.

Castiel dropped his arm, turning to face Sam and Dean. As skilled as they were, they only had two rusted pieces of fence to defend themselves against a hoard of over 20 zombies.

In his peripheral vision, Castiel watched as a zombie clawed at Dean’s face, leaving angry red gashes across his cheek.

His breath hitched as he stepped forward. Looking back at Sam and Dean, the graveyard started to get brighter, as he began to glow, basked in heavenly light.

The graveyard began to replicate the glow of the moon. The light quickly shifted from a, pale blue to one blindingly ethereal, the energy making the hairs prick on the back of Castiel’s neck.

He concentrated, focusing his grace on working through his wings. He felt them snap open, cracking as they uncurled.

Behind him, Sam and Dean sucked in their breaths as his broken wings began to cast a ragged shadow on the fountain behind them. Castiel bowed his head, his eyes glowing, shifting from a brilliant blue to a blinding white.

He snapped his head up as pain began to shoot through his wings. Forcing himself to stay standing, he yelled through gritted teeth, “Shut your eyes!”

A high pitched ringing pierced the air. White light flooded the graveyard.

Then suddenly everything was silent, the graveyard littered with rotting corpses, fresh blood trickling out of their ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi yes pls comment it validates me


	2. Chapter 2

Sam woke with a start, whacking his head against something solid. Furrowing his brows, he blinked rapidly, trying to dispel the grogginess clouding his head.

The muted brown shapes dancing in from of his eyes solidified into books and bookcases. He was in the bunker.

Sam brushed a few strands of hair behind his ear, sweat pricking his face.

Stumbling to his feet, Sam noticed Dean a few feet away, head leaning against the leg of the table.

Sam limped over to Dean. Crouching down, he shook him urgently. Dean woke with a start, eyes darting back and forth in panic before realizing where he was. Panting, Sam helped him to his feet, the two brothers leaning against the table.

Dean tried to find his voice, but his throat was raw. Wetting his mouth, he grunted before rasping out, “Sammy, you good?”

Sam nodded, mouth twitching before asking, “Where’s Cas?”

The two brothers looked around, half hoping to see Castiel just materialize in front of them. Instead, Dean noticed an arm poking out from the other side of the table.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he stepped around the table, smearing the blood off his face with the back of his hand. Instead of Castiel, Dean came face to face with Jack’s burnt out eyes. Gulping, Dean turned to face Sam.

Both brothers stared at each other across the table, features creased with panic.

“Dean where’s Cas?” Sam posed again, this time his voice clear with urgency. “And what was that noise?” Sam scrunched up his face, bringing his hand to his head. “My head’s pounding.”

Dean hurried to the other side of the table, taking Sam’s hands away from his head. “Okay, we’ll worry about your headache after.” He paused, sweeping his eyes across the war room. “We gotta find Cas.”

Sam groaned, straightening himself. Swaying, Sam started to head for the library.

Dean followed a muscle in his jaw ticking. “That’s what an angel’s true voice sounds like.”

Sam started to walk faster. Together, they started calling out for Castiel.

…

Castiel lay on the floor, ebbing in and out of consciousness. Shifting his head, he heard a metallic clang as he knocked it against something solid. He opened his eyes to slits, expecting the harsh light of the bunker. Instead, he was greeted by the stillness of the dark. Frowning, he tried to take a breath, his nose assaulted with the smell of gasoline. Stretching his neck, he placed both his hands on the floor, trying to push himself up. Straightening at the elbows, he fell weakly back against the floor.

The cold, cement floor. 

Groaning, he struggled to sit straight. Shuffling against the car, he felt the sticky pull of his coat rip away from his blazer. Struggling, he tugged it off his back, his eyes registering the matted blood and two long slices burnt away after a few seconds of staring blankly at the tan cloth. 

Castiel twitched his lip, his eyes downcast. It would’ve taken the fallen angels thousands of years for their wings to regrow, but considering the feat he pulled in the graveyard, he was uncertain if he would ever fly again.

Shouts pulled him from his somber musings. Sam and Dean were calling for him, the yells for his name echoing faintly off the walls. Castiel tried to call for them, but he could only mouth wordlessly, his efforts interrupted every few seconds by bouts of coughing.

His head lolling to the side, his eyes fluttered shut, darkness consuming him

...

Sam paused, leaning against the map table, breathing deeply as he waited for Dean to return. They had searched through the entire bunker, combing through each room. The only two places that had remained were the dungeon and the run range. 

Sam had checked the gun range, his shouts for Castiel filling the silence.

No response.

Now he waited for Dean to return from the dungeon. Hearing footsteps emerging, Sam braced himself for their next conversation.

Dean entered the room, holding out his hands as though to say “any luck?”

Sam shook his head. “Dean, you don’t think… you don’t think Cas is…” Sam swallowed, unable to finish his sentence.

Dean’s brows furrowed. “Cas isn’t dead Sam.” He glanced around nervously. “Maybe he’s still at the graveyard.”

Sam nodded, trying to convince himself. Wordlessly, they both headed towards the garage. Stepping inside, they locked sight with the Impala.

“Song of a bitch,” Dean sighed. “He really did bring it back.”

Whilst Sam clambered into the passenger seat, Dean rounded the corner, shrieking as he almost kicked Castiel.

Sam immediately climbed out of the Impala, skirting around the corner before covering his mouth, stiffling a cry.

Dean crouched next to an unconscious Castiel, putting two fingers up to his throat to check for a pulse. Once he found it, he sagged in relief, nodding to Sam.

Sam stepped forward, crouching down and placing a palm under Castiel’s cheek, preventing it from lolling even further than it had.

Clearing his throat, he placed his other hand on the opposite shoulder and started to shake. “Hey, Cas? Can you hear us?”

Ragged breathing filled the silence.

Sam shook with more fervency. “Cas!”

A few moments later, Castiel’s eyes blinked open, his head lifting off Sam’s palm. Dragging his eyes up, he found himself looking up into the younger Winchester’s worried ones. His brow relaxed.

“Sam,” Castiel breathed.

Sam blinked in relief. “Cas.”

Castiel shifted against the car, rolling his back. Pain pierced through his shoulders, shooting down his body. Castiel started to shudder, slouching forward. He waited for the pain to ebb away, but it only festered. 

The edges of his vision going white, Castiel slumped against Sam’s hand, falling unconscious yet again.

Throughout this ordeal, Dean had been silent. There were so many things he wanted to say - so many things he wanted to explain. But the words sat heavy on his tongue, as he watched his best friend struggle.

As Castiel fell unconscious a second time, Dean finally spoke up.

“Okay, let’s get him up.”

Together, he and Sam threw Castiel’s arms over their shoulders. Hauling him to his feet, they made their way out of the garage, stumbling through the bunker before making their way to Castiel’s room. Gently, they placed the slumbering angel on his bed, lifting his feet and resting them on the bedspread. Sam took his shoes off, Dean grabbing a blanket from his closet 

The two of them stood, side by side, listening to Castiel’s gentle snores. Dean rubbed the back of his neck, eyes darting around the room.

While Castiel’s room seemed completely barren of any personalization, Dean had glanced upon the picture of Kelly that graced his nightstand.

His guilt flared up, almost like a bout of panic. Casting his eyes downward, he and Sam departed the room, leaving Castiel alone with only the darkness and his soft breaths to fill the room.


	3. Chapter 3

_Chuck glanced at him. Their gaze held for probably half a second, yet it seemed like Chuck was boring through his vessel, through his true form and straight down to the very essence of his grace._

_Then his gaze diverted, he lifted his fingers and snapped._

_Immediately, white light burst from Jack’s eyes, the child groaning in agony. Castiel tried to drop to the ground, tried to put a hand on Jack’s forehead, but his knees never seemed to touch the ground. He was falling, he couldn’t get to Jack, Chuck was smiling, why couldn’t he touch the ground -_

Castiel’s body jerked in his sleep, his head slamming against the headboard. Instantly, his eyes snapped open. Shifting his body into a sitting position, he reached to his back, wincing as he probed the tender skin surrounding the raw and blistering burns on his back.

Closing his eyes, he focused on knitting his vessel back together, the wounds fizzling with an airy blue light. The process spent much of the energy he had recharged, leaving Castiel heaving slightly on the bed.

After a few seconds, he blinked his eyes open. Slipping his shoes on, he left his room, grabbing his coat on the way out.

The bunker was silent, apart from the gentle hum and whir of machinery. Castiel knew instinctively that the time was 12:07 in the morning. He had been asleep for hours, and he knew the Winchesters were probably asleep as well.

For a moment, Castiel stood in the hallways, hands in his pockets, surrounded by darkness. A deep sense of loneliness lay heavy on his chest.

He could see his feet shuffling towards the library, but he wasn’t thinking about it. He was just going through the motions, walking forwards because he didn’t know what else to do.

He thought he was alone as he neared the library, but as he approached the steps, a lamp flicked on. Looking over, he saw Sam, his eyes red, a book laying despondently on his lap.

“Hey, Cas.” Sam leaned forward in his seat. “Are you okay?”

Castiel shoved his hands deeper in his pocket, walking towards Sam. “I’m fine.” A lump formed in his throat.

“Sam, where’s…,” Castiel swallowed. “Sam, where’s Jack?”

For a moment, the two of them stared at each other, their eyes shining. Then Sam cleared his throat.

“He’s in his room.” Standing up, Sam took a few steps. “C’mon.”

The two of them walked to Jack’s room. Opening the door, Castiel stepped inside, exhaling at the sheet-covered form in front of him.

Sam stood in the doorway, a tear unexpectedly springing from his eye. Scrubbing his face, he watched Castiel gingerly lift the sheet off Jack’s face.

Castiel gazed down at Jack, the curls of his hair covering one of his burnt-out eyes. Thumbing the blonde hair, he pushed it gently off his face, softly grazing his forehead. Clearing his throat, he pulled the sheet back up, turning around to face Sam.

“Sam,” he said quietly. “I know how difficult this is for you.” He sighed, looking downwards. “I know how difficult this is for all of us.” Looking back up he continued. “But Jack’s remains don't being here…” Castiel trailed off.

Sam’s lip trembled. Bitting it, he nodded. Castiel continued.

“They belong in heaven. Kelly… she deserves to know.”

Sam took a shaky breath. “Yeah, that’s probably for the best.”

Sam turned, heading towards Dean’s room to wake him. Castiel waited a few moments, muffled protests coming from down the hallways. Then Sam came walking back, Dean trudging behind him, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

For a moment, Dean’s eyes cleared when he saw Castiel. From the behind, he seemed fine, the tears in his clothes gone, no exposed burns. But the way his shoulders were hunched, his head bowed, suggested otherwise.

“Cas,” Dean said softly. “Are you alright?”

Castiel turned, looking at the ground. “I’m fine.”

When Castiel said nothing else, Dean shifted his feet awkwardly. “Okay, that’s… that’s good,” he trailed off.

Sam cleared his throat, trying to rid the tension in the air. “Cas says we should take Jack to heaven.”

Dean’s eyes snapped to Sam’s. “What?” A flicker of anger. “I thought we were gonna give him a hunter’s funeral?”

Castiel chuckled quietly, rubbing his eyes. Dean turned to him, furrowing his eyes. ‘What?”

Castiel’s hand dropped from his eyes. “No.. no you see we aren’t going to give Jack a hunter’s funeral.” His voice was clear, his eyes staring straight at Dean’s. He took a step forward.

Dean took a step back.

“We aren’t going to give him a hunter’s funeral because Kelly is waiting for him.” Castiel cocked his head. “She’s waiting for him to return after living a long and eventful life.”

Dean was backed up against the wall. Castiel came close enough that Dean couldn’t help back stare into his eyes.

“Don’t you think,” Castiel said, his voice barely above a whisper, “that she deserves to know what happened to her son? To be close with him even though she won’t ever see him again?”

Sam cleared his throat for the second time. Castiel turned and headed back into Jack’s room.

Dean blinked, putting his hands to his temple.

…

It was still dark when the bunker’s doors screeched closed behind them. A chill breeze had filtered through the air, pricking at Sam and Dean, even through all their layers of clothing. They laid Jack in the backseat of the impala, Castiel squeezing in beside him.

They drove silently to the sandbox. There were no angel’s guarding the gate.

Castiel carried Jack bridal style to the sandbox. Stepping inside, wispy strands of light wove their way around his legs, growing brighter until he was engulfed in white light. Sam and Dean blinked their eyes closes, holding their hands up to sheild them from the light. When they opened them again, Castiel was gone.

...

Castiel found himself standing in the middle of a sterile white hallway. Sprawled across the corridor were fifteen angels, their eyes burnt out. To the average person, they would have just looked like regular people. But Castiel knew that the human perspective was limited. Even then, these angels didn’t look like proper angels.

Their true forms frizzed with energy that was slowly dwindling. Their wings were broken, stumpy little things. Castiel recognized them as the human souls Jack had converted under his time with Duma.

Castiel sighed. Humans were never meant to be angels. The human soul couldn’t retain that much energy for that long anyway

Castiel walked along the corridors of heaven. When once they would’ve been bustling with angels, the hallways were silent, the only sounds being the swoosh of power when the lights would dim occasionally.

Finally, he arrived at the door.

_Kelly Kline_

_1978-2017_

Castiel took a measured breath, ajusting his stance, he pushed the door open. 


	4. Chapter 4

It had started to drizzle.

Sam and Dean stood, warming their hands over the burn barrel near the sandbox. The flames crackled. Occasionally, an orange spark would fritz and jump in the air.

Dean stood stoically, the flames casting an orange shadow on his face. Raindrops splattered gently on his head, dampening his hair.

Sam stood next to Dean, his hands wavering over the fire.

Sam tried to keep his mind blank. But every few moments, bursts of the most recent events would hit him like a wave. Memories of Jack, the blinding light bursting from his eyes. The world going dark.

Sam squeezed his eyes shut, a tear rolling out from underneath.

_I know what it feels like to feel like you don't belong, to feel like there's this darkness inside of you, to be scared of who you are, what you can do. Dean, Cas... my family helped me through that. So now I wanna help you. Because you're not evil, Jack.”_

Sam scrubbed his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he straightened his shoulders and headed back to the car.

Dean stood still, the orange glow still wavering in his eyes.

…

Kelly was sitting by her pond, her dog whining in her lap when she heard a rustle in the foliage. Kelly stood up, Roosevelt jumping from her lap.

He scampered into the tree, nose high. Moments later, her dog came running back, followed by a man wearing a trench coat.

Castiel.

Kelly’s face broke out into a grin, her eyes crinkling. She stepped forward to meet him.

“Castiel, what are you…” Kelly faltered, noticing the sheet-covered figure. Worry started to crease her features. “Cas…who…”

Castiel kept walking forward, his eyes glistening.

Kelly ran to catch up with him, her eyes pricking. Deep down, she knew who it was, but she couldn’t bring herself to believe it.

Castiel headed towards Kelly's house, opening the door with a flick of his wrist.

Inside, Castiel lay Jack on the table. Placing a hand over his sheet covered face, a warm glow emitted from his palm, restoring his eyes. Lifting the sheet off, Castiel took a step back.

Kelly stepped forward, her eyes darting back and forth as she fought to keep her tears from running down her face. She looked down, droplets splashing onto Jack’s face.

Kelly lifted her hands to his face, curling them around his cheeks. “No, no no,” she murmured, pushing back his hair.

Kelly looked up.

“No, no,” she whispered. “You were..” She looked accusingly at Castiel. “You were supposed to take care of him.”

Kelly inched closer, tears leaking from her eyes, She grabbed Castiel by his lapels, pulling him closer to her. “You were supposed to take care of him!”

She pushed him. When he didn’t say anything, she pushed him again. Finally, Castiel wrapped his arm around her.

Kelly rested her head against his chest, shaking. Tears ran free from under her closed eyes.

They stood there for a while, the two of them mourning the loss of their son.

It was dark in Kelly’s heaven when Castiel finished digging Jack’s grave. Kelly had chosen the spot. It was in the grass underneath a blush coloured cherry tree in full bloom.

Kelly sat close by, her face splotchy and red, tears running silently down her face.

When Jack had been laid in his grave, the dirt piled over him, Kelly and Castiel stood, listening to the crickets chirp in silence.

Eventually, Kelly spoke up.

“Thank you.”

Castiel looked at her, his eyes creasing in confusion.

“For everything. For taking care of him.” Kelly’s voice cracked. “For bringing him back here.”

Castiel put a hand on her shoulder. ‘Kelly I -”

She didn’t let him finish. “I was waiting for him.” She sniffed, wiping her eyes. “I would’ve been waiting for him forever. Not knowing…”

She tried to finish her sentence, but her sobs cut her short. Castiel pulled her in close, resting his chin atop her head.

“Thank… thank you.”

It was late when Kelly finally went back into the house. Even in heaven, she needed to rest.

Castiel stayed by Jack’s grave as the night wore on. He tilted his head to the sky, his eyes grey in the reflection of the moon. He dwelled upon Jack, his soulful gaze, and equally compassionate spirit.

_“I just wanted to be good”_

Castiel felt a sharp pain run through his chest. Gasping softly, he lowered himself to his knees, hands pulling at the grass under his fingers.

The way he pulled at the grass when the empty had spat him out. When Jack had woken him up.

When Jack had brought him back to life.

Castiel lifted his eyes from the ground, watching the rosy petals flutter from the tree in the light breeze.

_“Why? Why did you do that?”_

_“Because I made a promise.”_ Castiel replayed the memory in his head. _“Because I love you, Jack.”_

His vision began to swim. A solitary tear fell from his eye, running along his face before dripping into the grass.

Castiel lifted himself off the ground, brushing his pants off. Crossing his arms, he turned and walked towards the foliage.

By the time Castiel had returned from heaven, Sam and Dean both lay slumped against the windows, smoke wafting from the barrel fire in the distance. 

...

A faint ring began to hum in Dean’s ears. Blinking his eyes open, he witnessed tendrils of blue light weaving through the air, fading as a figure appeared in the sandbox.

Castiel stepped out of the sandbox. Dean watched as he walked around the car, the door creaking as he settled inside. The engine hummed, sputtering as Dean started the car and sped away.


	5. Chapter 5

Jack sucked in a breath, his eyes blinking open. Dazedly, he propped himself up on his elbows, his gut twisting at the creature walking toward him. He looked up nervously, his breath hitching.

The creature stopped walking and waved a gooey black hand. Mouth grinning, he gave jack a toothless smile.

Jack’s eyes darted across the creatures face. “What’s happening?”

“Yeah… about that,” a deep voice said. Twisting around, he looked up at a tall, dark woman, her face as expressionless as her voice. “We should talk.”

Death, otherwise known as Billie gazed down, boring into Jack’s soul. Yes, his soul. When Jack had appeared in the Empty, he appeared whole, complete as he was in his first moments alive.

With a soul.

Billie wasn’t going to mention it, but Castiel had also come to the empty whole. With wings. The Shadow, however, had decided to send him back with his torn and shredded, as they had been in recent years.

Jack tilted his head quizzically. “About what?”

Billie studied him. “About Chuck. About how he’s ended the world.” She enunciated each word, never taking her eyes off Jack.

Jack sat up further. “I don’t... I don’t understand…”

A squelch could be heard from behind him, as the obsidian creature stood next to Billie.

Jack squirmed. Within the months, he, Sam, Dean, and Castiel had been hunting the Gorgon, they had watched Venom as part of their Tuesday movie nights. Jack half expected the creature in front of him to open his mouth and reveal a salivating tongue and razor-sharp teeth.

Jack’s eyes darted back to Billie as she began speaking again.

“Because of you and your friends, Chuck has decided to leave the building. Permanently.” Billie tilted her head slightly. “Our world is just another one of his stories that never hit the shelves.”

Jack’s brows furrowed together. “Because of me?”

Billie didn’t move.

“You started it. Now you have to finish it.” She broke her stance, reached over, and pulled Jack to his feet.

Jack clambered up, fingering the hem of his sweater nervously. Billie walked to the other side of the Shadow, who was getting ready to place a finger on Jack’s temple.

“A few things you should note,” Billie added monotonously. “First, you’ll be returning with a soul.”

Jack’s eyes widened with shock, mouth slightly agape, but before he had time to react, Billie continued.

“Next, the Shadow has something to give you.”

Jack felt his knees weaken as the Shadow pressed a finger harshly into Jack’s forehead, leaning in so close that it was as though Jack were staring into a deep pool of nothingness.

Jack took a step back as a voice that sounded eerily like his own began to hiss.

“You see kiddo, I’m awake now. And I’m never going back to sleep.”

Jack wiped his sweat covered palms against his jeans. The sinister voice continued.

“All this, all these _stimuli_,” the voice enunciated. “It’s driving me insane!” The Shadow shook his head manically, rasping out a few chuckles. “But the only things, the one things keeping me sane is knowing that one day, I’ll get the angel that started this all.”

The Shadow pressed his finger harder into Jack’s forehead. “One day, Castiel will return to me.”

Jack shifted his stance. No, he wasn’t going to let that happen.

But the being was nodding his head reassuringly. “But if the world goes… if the world goes _poof_, when will he be happy?” The Shadow inched closer to Jack. “So when you see him next, give this little gift to him.” His voice dropped an octave. “tell him it’s from me,” he finished, smiling menacingly.

Electric pulses began to travel through Jack’s forehead. He fell to his knees, screaming, as his head began to grow hot, veins throbing as though they were going to explode. He felt the energy sizzle down his spine, dissipating into his fingertips.

Then the pain was gone, just as quick as it had come. Jack stood up, his hands radiating new energy, the azure light quickly snuffed out by the darkness of the Empty. He looked up, trying to catch his breath.

But the Shadow was gone, leaving Billie to gaze down on him once more. “See ya around kiddo.” She smiled, Jack’s vision beginning to fade as he fell into a tunnel of darkness.


	6. Chapter 6

Night had settled upon the bunker. For the rest of the world, they had fallen asleep as soon as Chuck had turned the world dark. But for Sam and Dean, their world has been plunged into darkness long before night had fallen.

But now it was midnight. The generator hummed quietly down the hallway, where Sam and Dean lay in their respective beds.

Most nights, Dean would lie in his bed, twisted uncomfortably in the sheets as he replayed the horrors from the last hunt. He would thrash, caught in the throes of a nightmare, or struggle to kick the sheets off himself.

On this night, however, Dean lay motionless in bed, dread filling his stomach, as he thought about what Chuck had done. About what he had done.

So Dean lay in bed, listening for a sound in the silence of the night.

He heard nothing. Not even the sound of Castiel walking up and down the bunker.

Then a creak. He heard a screech as the bunker’s main door swung open. _It's probably Castiel_, he thought to himself.

Silence.

Then a scream.

Castiel’s scream. Not that of his true voice, but through his vessel.

Dean shot up in bed, automatically grabbing the pistol from underneath his pillow. Silently, he slid out of bed. Opening the door, he started creeping down the hallway to Sam’s room 

The sound of the bunker’s self-defense mechanism interrupted his sleuthing. Dean looked up as the emergency lights turned a glaring red, alarms blaring through the bunker as it went into lockdown. 

Dean stopped stalking down the hallway and broke into a run. He turned into Sam’s room, glancing at the empty bed before sprinting into the war room. 

Dean halted, his knees going weak with shock.

“Jack?”

…

Jack sluggishly dragged his eyes open. He was lying in the grass, the sound of crickets slicing through the night. 

Almost instantly, Jack could feel the weight of all his transgressions pile on top of him, like a stack of bricks. 

“Mary…” Jack whispered, a tear trickling down his face. 

The woman he had vowed to protect in Apocalypse World. He had killed her without even a second thought. 

A second tear squeezed out of Jack’s eye. He lay in the grass, faintly registering the throbbing in his hands and head. 

Jack didn’t think much of it. He reached up to rub his head, stumbling to his feet when he saw his hands. 

Both of Jack’s hands emitted a soft blue aura, thin whips of light weaving around his fingers like gossamer silk. 

He swiped at his hands, shaking them as though if he shook hard enough, the light would disappear.

Nothing happened. Instead, the light grew brighter, the pounding in Jack’s head louder. He stumbled forward, his vision getting blurry as he sought to take in his surroundings. 

He was in the woods. Ahead, he could see a clearing. He recognized it as one that led towards the bunker. 

Staggering forward, Jack groaned, closing his eyes as the pain gripped around his head like a vice. 

Shuffling through the woods, Jack willed himself to keep moving, leaning against the front door when he arrived. Fumbling through his pocket, he grabbed at his key, shoving it into the lock and pushing the door open. 

The bunker was quiet. Tripping down the stairs, Jack winched as each thud echoed back in his head. Leaning against the railing, Jack slid down to the floor, his body seized in the throes of pain. 

The light was no longer weaving between his fingers, but engulfed his hands, radiating blue light.

Footsteps padded into the room, clicking on the light switch. Jack watched as Castiel’s eyes landed on his figure slumped against the wall.

“Jack!” Castiel rushed over, taking up both his hands. “Wha… How?” We saw Chuck kill you!” Castiel gripped his hands tighter. “We saw you die!”

Jack made a feeble attempt to answer, but his thoughts were consumed with getting rid of the power searing within him.

Then it clicked. 

_“So when you see him next, give this little gift to him.”_

_“Tell him it’s from me.”_

Jack groaned, shifting to his knees. He didn’t want to hurt Castiel, but he knew he was going to explode if he kept the power inside him. 

“The.. the empty,” Jack rasped. “He wanted me to give this to you.” Jack pressed a finger to Castiel’s forehead and closed his eyes, expecting instant relief.

Instead, his eyes shot open as Castiel began to scream, the room bathed in red light.

… 

Sam couldn’t sleep. 

Over the years, Sam had learned how to cope with trauma. How the healthiest mechanism was usually not breaking out a bottle of beer.

But on some nights, all the pain Sam thought he had shoved away would force itself to the front of his thought, rearing its ugly head.

Sam would toss in bed, willing the weight of his past mistakes to go away. 

It would always turn out to no avail. So on this night, Sam rose and trudged to his desk, rubbing his eyes blearily.

Sam dropped into his chair, stretching his neck. Outside he heard a screech, then the bang of the front door. Getting up, he padded out of his room and down the hallway. Turning into the war room, he stopped, sputtering in disbelief.

At the bottom of the entrance stairs, Jack sat, slumped against the wall, Castiel crouching beside him earnestly. He watched, fear causing his stomach to flutter.

Suddently, Castiel’s screams shot through Sam’s head, his legs weaking. Alarms started to blare throughout the bunker as the red lights began to glow.

Sam felt Dean skid up next to him. The oxygen left his lungs as Dean uttered all of Sam’s questions in one word.

“Jack?”


	7. Chapter 7

Castiel grasped Jack’s hands, crushing his fingers in his grip. He looked up at the boy’s face, worn with exhaustion, bathed in blue light. Light his hands, oddly, were emitting.

Still, Castiel couldn’t believe it. It couldn’t be real. They had _watched_ Jack die.

Castiel felt a lump wedge its way down his throat. He swallowed, gripping Jack’s hands tighter.

“Jack,” he croaked. “Wha…How? We saw Chuck kill you!” Castiel felt his head swirl. “We saw you die!”

The… the Empty,” Jack whispered hoarsely.

Jack extracted a hand from Castiel’s grip, feebly placing it to his forehead. Castiel tilted his head, perplexed at the motion.

“He wanted me to give you this.” Castiel watched jack’s eyes flicker, then close.

Immediately, a white-hot pain seared through his head, enveloping his whole body. Castiel felt his true form attacked, pain squeezing around his core in a crushing grip. Castiel’s vision went red, alarm echoing back in his head.

Castiel fell to his side as Jack removed his finger, shooting up and pressed his back against the wall. Castiel began to writhe on the floor, curling in on himself.

Sam and Dean rushed forward. Dean slipped his hand under Castiel’s face, stopping it from knocking against the floor, while Sam clutched onto his friend’s arm. 

Placing his other hand on Castiel's shoulder, Sam hauled him into a sitting position. Castiel curled one leg up, gripping his knees as his body convulsed.

A ragged obstruction across the emergency lights cast a jagged shadow across the room. Sam, Dean, and Jack looked at the wall, eyes widening.

When once Castiel’s wings were large and imposing, they now hung limp and despondent. Ragged feathers dropped off the ends of gnarly bones, while other clumps flirted off and dissolved into nothingness. Even as shadows, they looked raw and painful.

Castiel screamed, lowering his head to his knee. Across the wall, limp wings snapped into bands arching over the lights.

Another scream echoed off the wall. All three watched as feathers, long and encapsulating filled out the wings, diffusing the red light. 

Then the shadows disappeared. Castiel began to glow, awash in blue light, his features painted in a violet light.

Then it suddenly stopped. The alarms stopped blaring and the lights flickered from red to yellow.

Sam and Dean stepped back as Castiel led his leg slide to the floor. Staring straight ahead, he pushed himself off the floor. Almost robotically, he straightened his back, rollings his shoulders without moving his gaze.

“Cas?” Dean inched forward, grabbing this friend by the arm, tugging it towards him. Castiel turned, his eyes blazing blue. Dean felt a flicker of trepidation in his stomach, staring into those unwavering pools of light. 

Dean stepped back again as Castiel began to glow once more. His breath caught in his throat as giant shadows of wings began to uncurl on the wall.

Sam, Dean, and Jack stared in awe at the expanse of dark shadows the wall. Then Castiel slouched his shoulders, the light and shadows disappearing.

He focused his gaze on Dean. A muscle in his jaw ticked. Cleaning his throat, he uttered a sentence with the newfound strength and courage of the soldier he once was.

“My wings are back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright my dudes, that's it. This is my first fic, so if ya'll could leave comments, or let me know you enjoyed it, it would really boost my self esteem and make me feel great about myself.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> **MYA IK U CAN SEE THIS**

**Author's Note:**

> im serious comments make my day pls


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